


Make Them Pay

by vexatiousJabberer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Murder Double Reacharound, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexatiousJabberer/pseuds/vexatiousJabberer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Expatriate Darkleer does not get many visitors. Except for Marquise Spinneret Mindfang and a few other trolls sent by her recommendations for prosthetics he is usually alone. One day however, he gets a visit by a ghost from his past, a troll he assumed was long dead.</p><p>And she comes with an offer that could change society forever.</p><p>An offer that would make them pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be The Expatri8

It had been some time since you had been visited. In truth, you loathed being visited, primarily because it always meant that someone wanted something from you. They would pay you but that would typically be it. There would be no conversation, no socialization of any sort, just a simple order, repair, attachment, and finally transaction and they would be off.

Except for Mindfang. She always talked. And it was always about the same things.

"Did she deserve it?"

"Do you regret it?"

And occasionally "Why did you do it?"

And it was always the last question that trips you up. The first question you always say yes. The second question is always no. But the third, the reasoning behind why you are so sure of the first two you have never quite known, never quite understood. And it haunts you. It has haunted you for so many sweeps that you cannot remember exactly when it was that you showed mercy to her. When it was that you lost all credibility and had all of your titles, all of your wealth, all of what it was that made you the troll you were stripped away from you, leaving you with just your name. And even then, only part of your name.

So now you're a b100b100d, a Highblood living in an abandoned temple of some forgotten religion creating artificial limbs for other trolls just to get some coin so that you can survive.

But why? Why not just end this pathetic charade? You have nothing and have been left with a gaping void. Why not just simply take one of your crossbows and finish off the job the Subjugglators started?

And the question is always answered by her face.

The face of the girl with the wide eyes so full of emotion, full of despair and anger and fear that cut straight into the thick armor you wore and pierced your heart. The face that has haunted your waking days and nights, torturing you with so many questions, questions that you just do not have any answers for.

And yet in that face, despite the fact that she knew you were going to be the executioner for her beloved, despite the fact that you were pointing an arrow at her, ready to kill her for simply being part of the Sufferer's revolution you saw...

Forgiveness. Acceptance. Love. Not a single shred of hatred for what you were doing, what you were going to do, what you inevitably did.

And you faltered.

And you let her go.

And then you looked upon the Sufferer and saw his pain. You looked into the mutant blood's eyes and you saw the same look.

He was supposed to have been hanging there in those red hot irons until he died. This would have taken weeks, if not months.

You notched an arrow, the same arrow you were going to kill the girl with and decided to cut that sentence down to three days.

It hit him in the side. Not caring of the roars of disapproval you walked up to him and grasped the arrow. With one strong pull you wrenched the arrow out creating a gaping wound.

He then gave his last sermon.

You have never forgotten it.

And now, as you make additions to the arm attachment you find yourself remembering it. How the last word trailed into nothing as his lifeblood left him. You find yourself shuddering before a feeling overwhelms you.

There is someone in the temple besides you.

You look up from your work bench. There is no one there. You scan around you, taking stock of the entire room. Nothing.

You tentatively look up.

Before you can even finish craning your neck upwards you find yourself slammed to the ground, the razor sharp blades of a gauntlet pressed against your neck. An attempt to turn your head to see your attacker is made only for the blades to dig in a little deeper.

"Hello Darkl33r," the voice of the body pressing on your back says, an aged female voice crisp with barely constrained... Amusement?

"We m33t again. Although this time it s33ms like I'm the one holding the weapon."

Your body stiffens. No. This cannot be.

"D... Disciple?" The blades in your neck pull back a minute amount.

"Yesss. Though I'm a little bit older and much more experienced."

The blades go back to digging in as she continues, "You killed the Sufferer."

"I ended his pain. If I hadn't, it would have taken weeks to die."

"So you don't regret it?"

You pause. You have never questioned that before. She does not move, does not even seem to breath as she waits for your response.

"Yes. I... I regret it."

The Disciple lets out the smallest of gasps.

"I regret it," you continue, "Because I think, in that small moment when I 100ked into his eyes and saw only forgiveness I pitied him. I wanted to pull him down and treat his wounds. In that moment I felt... Pale for him."

The blades pull back but you do not move.

"And when he spoke his last sermon I believed. I heard and I saw the world he described. It felt so real. Like a memory I had forgotten.

"I knew there was so way I could save him, though. The only thing I could do was to do what I do best.

"I E%ecuted him. I gave him the quickest death I could give without being killed myself for treason, if only because his final moments were so... Painful."

For a moment there is no sounds except for your own ragged breath. Then you hear a rhythmic hissing sound. Turning your head in confusion you see the Disciple with a clawed hand over her mouth, green tears sliding down her face. The tears offset you once you realize what the sound is. A bewildered look crosses your face.

"Are... You laughing?"

Between hisssing giggles she responds, "Yes. Yes I am. It's just. I'm so happy."

"Why?"

"Because at the end, he had a friend with him. He had someone who believed him even when he died," She climbs off of you with all of the grace of a feline, "For that, Darkl33r, I will let you live. I could never kill a fellow Disciple."

You pick yourself up and take a better look at the woman before you. She is much smaller than you and covered with a multitude of furs and grasses instead of the ornate black and green clothes she wore so long ago. She definitely has aged, as most lowerbloods tend to do but has done so gracefully, a few thin streaks of grey stalking through her knotted mass of unruly hair. Her eyes...

Her eyes are exactly the same as they were so many sweeps ago, if not hardened a slight bit from becoming wild.

As your eyes meet you realize she was doing the same to you and find yourself feeling strangely awkward.

With a small noise, she hops up onto your workbench.

"So, Darkl33r," She says, pronouncing the long ee of your name nasally, sounding much like a purrbeast, "I didn't just come here to kill you. I came here to get information about something."

A feeling grips you. It causes you to turn around to hide the strange look on your face that grows there. People always only come to you when they need something. They never come to you for any other reason, why should this be any different?

"Something that you might want to help me with, now that I think about it," She continues but you only barely register it over the sound of your own thoughts.

"Darkleer," You stop and shift your head slightly, "I want to kill the Subjugglators. I want to kill every single last one of them."

Your jaw drops. You turn around slowly to see her crouched on your bench, eyes shaded by the furs, glowing dangerously.

"I want to make them pay."

You find yourself agreeing.

It is time.

Make them pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an idea I had based off of observations on the whole Troll Death thing.
> 
> After all, we've gotten pretty much all of the deaths reversed so far.
> 
> Vriska killed Tavros. The Summoner killed Mindfang.
> 
> Kanaya killed Eridan. Dualscar killed the Dolorosa.
> 
> Terezi killed Vriska. Mindfang killed Redglare.
> 
> The only murders that don't fit in this pattern (which I call the Murder Reacharound) are the last two.
> 
> Eridan killed Feferi.
> 
> Gamzee killed Nepeta and Equius.
> 
> Eridan killing Feferi can come down to nitpicking since no one so far has killed the Condesce. She's basically immortal. However, the Condesce HAS killed one troll personally: The Demoness/Handmaid. It could be argued that the event which set Eridan's Hopelessness Spiral of Murder off was Aradia ascending to GodTier and "dying" in front of everyone. After all, if the dead girl just gave up what's the point in hoping at all? So Aradia killed Feferi with Eridan? Maybe. It could just be that Aradia already being dead nullified the Murder Reacharound, making her death up for grabs.
> 
> But then there's Gamzee killing BOTH Nepeta and Equius. This would mean that, if the Murder Reacharound is true, that both Darkleer and the Disciple killed the Grand Highblood. Which, amusingly enough, would make sense.
> 
> It would make even more sense considering that Mindfang doesn't mention the Subjugglators at all when talking about the Summoner's rebellion.
> 
> Why?
> 
> Because they were all killed.
> 
> All of them.
> 
> Oh, by the way, The Grand Highblood had the Sufferer killed. Darkleer got the final blow but it was the Highblood who ordered it.
> 
> Maybe the Murder Reacharound is stifled only by paps and shooshes and Moiraillegiance? Maybe.
> 
> Or maybe there's still more to the story.


	2. Cahoots

A day has passed since the Disciple came to you with her request. She had left the temple to hunt and while she did you took out some paper and began drawing out the schematics of a certain place in Alternia, it's b100prints etched forever into your memory. Every step, every door, every pillar wind their way down your thinkpan through your arm and onto the paper. The Disciple walks in mere moments after you finish, b100d coating her gauntlets, fresh kill slung over her shoulder.

Part of you is amused with how large the furbeast is compared to her size but you maintain your poise. It has been quite some time since you have eaten and once the corpse is placed on the ground you find yourself drawn to it. Sickeningly red b100d pools on the ground and for a moment you are in another place before the scent of the fresh kill reaches your nostrils.

Never one with a taste for fresh meat you none the less find yourself gorging on the carcass, unable to resist the temptation. How long had it been since you last ate? You found yourself neither remembering nor caring even after your stomach has been filled to the brim with the furbeast's savory and sweet meats. As you raise yourself up you become aware of the red stains going down your front, covering your hands. A small laugh titters to your right and the sight of the Disciple giggling behind a b100dstained gauntlet like a grubling causes you to blush a bright azure.

"My my how long has it been since you last ate, Darkl33r," She quips, a mischevious glint in her eyes, "I'm quite glad that in my more aged state I don't n33d to eat as much to get my fill. Otherwise I wouldn't have had anything left."

You are about to retort with a snide comment before you realize that she was unfortunately right. The kill had been reduced to nothing but bones, fur, sinew, and a few less than desirable entrails.

"Yes. Well. This is beside the point, Disciple-"

"Please, call me Huntress. It was my title before I met the Sufferer and it's what everyone including him called me before," She pauses, the gauntlet coming up to her face, "Well, before I ended up being branded as the Disciple, really."

You stare at her a moment. This woman, technically your elder, who the day before had been so mature and frankly frightening was suddenly acting like a little girl. Was this, perhaps, how she treated those who she let close to her? Was this, perhaps, how she treated the Dolorosa, the Psiioniic, the...

You strike those thoughts from your mind. The Disciple, or perhaps Huntress, is nothing more than a partner at current.

"Fine then," You continue after composing yourself, "Huntress. You understand that the challenge we have decided to undertake will be a grave one. Even though, at current, there are only little under two hundred Subjugglators in existance."

"Only two hundred?"

"Yes. But they have armies of those who have been made loyal to them."

The Huntress' eyes flashed with curiosity, "Made?"

"Chucklevoodoo is a powerful thing and most every violet-b100ded Subjugglator is well versed in it. It makes anyone enslaved by or even just volunteering their forces to them unable to disobey any order given. Unless," You trail off.

"Unless something breaks the voodoo?" She asks, voice twinged with a sympathetic tone.

"Yes," You respond, images of a small crying greenb100d flashing though your mind as you do so, "Unless something breaks it. Either through shock or by simply killing the troll responsible for the voodoo."

"So we kill the Subjugglator, we get his army on our side."

"Yes. Unless they joined willingly like I did. And unlike when I was broken out of my spell they will not have memories of an Utopia flashing through their head."

A cold wind blows into the mouth of the temple. Moving fluidly, the Huntress closes the curtain at the door, stopping the flow. You take this pause to sit at the table before you continue.

"The other thing is that at any given moment, the Subjugglators could be any place around Alternia. Or around the Solar System for that matter."

The Huntress' face fell and she let out a small "Oh."

A part of you is surprised as a small smirk worms it's way across your face, "Which is a good thing that every ten sweeps the Grand High Subjugglator holds a Dark Carnival at his Sanctum, a horrible festival which every Subjugglator must attend or be culled for their absence."

The look on the female troll's face flips in an instant, turning to pure delight.

Part of you is frightened yet amused as to how happy she is about potential genocide.

"Now," You continue, "Look at the b100print. This is the Sanctum of the Messiahs. What do you first notice?"

She looks down at the paper, scrutinizing it intensely, a strand of grey hair belying her age falling in front of her face, before a confused look dons her face.

"Is... Is there only two entrances?"

"Yes, Huntress. There is one set of giant double doors at the entrance of the Sanctum. The second is on the rear of the roof which opens into a place the Highbloods can store their flying machines and Lusii. There are no other entrances or exits," She stares at you, unbelieving, "And I am sure of it. When I was the Grand High E%ecutor I was tasked with memorizing every single inch of the Sanctum. Though there are many secret passageways, deadly traps, jocular traps, and barred windows, there are only two singular entrances which also function as e%its."

Her eyes squint and she sticks out her tongue, "Bluh. How could someone be so stupid as to do something like that?"

"No one expects an assassin to get even close to the Mirthful Messiahs so they decided to build their Sanctum that way out of f001ish pride."

"What? Who are the Mirthful Messiahs? I thought they were Gods or something."

"Oh, I apologize, Huntress. That is what the Grand Highblood calls himself."

"He calls himself plural?"

"They call himself plural."

She stares at you now completely confused. You decide to e%plain.

"The secret of the Subjugglators is this: They worship the Mirthful Messiahs. These Messiahs have e%isted in legend for as long as recorded history. This is well known as you just duly noted. The current Grand High Subjugglator who got his title after culling the previous Grand High Subjugglator (as is customary to do so in order to become Grand High Subjugglator) believes that he is, in fact, the Mirthful Messiahs born into one body. He refers to himself as plural because to them, they are plural. No one but those who have seen the Mirthful Messiahs and live know of this."

The confused look has not left her face. You open your mouth to try and e%plain better but she suddenly gets an intense look on her face, cocking her head to one side. She quickly grabs the b100prints and grabs your collar, pulling you uncomfortably close to her.

"Someone is coming up the stairs. I will hide," And with that she lithely scurries up the wall next to the door and up into the shadows of the ceiling. By the time she disappears you begin to hear the familiar clopping noise of heeled boots climbing up stone steps.

After a moment's pause, The Grand Marquise Spinneret Mindfang flings open the curtain to the temple with all of the usual dramatic flair she usually shows. Her fangs glisten in the moonlight, hair whipping in the wind.

Her smile disappears as she regards you. You wonder for a moment why before you realize e%actly.

You were smiling.

Grinning.

Darkleer does not have a reason to smile. Or, perhaps, didn't until yesterday. The grin instantly vanishes and a sneer runs it's way across her smug face. She knows something is different with you now and if you know her (and you have known her for so many sweeps now) she will stop at nothing to find out what has made you different.

"Daaaaaaaarkleer," She elongates with the sneer oiling up her voice, "My good friend, the best mechanic in Alternia, the most renouned Ex-E%ecutor, I must ask what haaaaaaaave you done with the place. It seems," She pauses, single eye glinting, "Lived in. Almost as if you've had company of some sort."

"In fact I have, Mindfang. Another troll in need of help similar to yours came by earlier. She is of some renown and as such I attempted to spruce up the place a bit."

"With a dead furb8st?"

"I was hungry after she left."

Mindfang's sneer does not leave her face. She can tell that you are not lying. In truth, you have not lied one bit, but Mindfang is a master at lying and all forms of deception. Just as she can tell you are being truthful she can also tell you are hiding something.

"You know, I wouldn't judge you if you got a matesprit or hired a pale prostitute to help you get over your problems. In fact I'd support you-"

"Enough, Mindfang," You make your way over to your workbench and pick up the prosthetic you were working on the day before, "I assume you have come for your upgraded prosthetic. If you will give me a moment I can-"

"Fiiiiiiiine, you don't want to tell me that's your choice. But don't say I wouldn't try to help you and your little beast girl out."

You drop the prosthetic, "What?"

The Marquise's stance straightens proudly as she laughs, "Darkleeeeeeeer you've forgotten how good I can sneak. I got here shortly after your little friend delivered you your lunch. I snuck up the steps and heard the whole thing. Kind of upsetting how pathetically easy it was to sneak up on the savage, though."

As soon as she utters this, a set of three long blades attached to a lithe hand wraps around the Marquise's front and presses against her neck. The Marquise responds to this with even more laughter.

"Darkleer, please get your little beast off of me. She obviously doesn't know about the modifications you add to my prosthetics."

The Huntress looks over her shoulder and you respond, "There is an extendable blade in Mindfang's forearm that can be propelled at a high velocity backwards to a full length of seven inches. At current, if extended, Mindfang could easily gut you. I am sorry."

Begrudgingly, The Huntress lets go and, eyeing Mindfang angrily, moves to stand next to you.

"My my," The pirate begins, sizing up the smaller girl, "Myyyyyyyy indeed. Darkleer you have chosen well to be in cahoots with. The Disciple herself. Congrats."

"Let me guess, you're going to turn us in now?" The Huntress responds with a hiss.

"Shoosh, my little beast. I have no intention of doing that. In fact, I actually wish to help by providing you with all of my pir8te fleet as your personal army."

Your eyebrow raises, "Why would you help us?"

"A couple of reasons. The first of which being that it would be fun, of course. The second... Well, I bl8me the death of the my first Kismet on them. I've wanted revenge for quite some time now."

The Huntress cackles, a sound which throws the Marquise out of her self-absorbed confidence, "Please. You don't care about your ex-Kismet that much."

The Marquise's face turns cold, "How d8re you. How d8re you even suggest that I didn't-"

"Oh I wasn't suggesting that you didn't hate him. I was simply saying that he isn't the main reason at all. I can tell when someone is lying about quadrants. There's someone else much more important to you who's the real reason."

Mindfang's face turns pale with rage. You have never seen her this angry before and frankly you find it... Amusing.

"I am NOT lying and I will NOT humor your little-"

"So you don't deny it. There is another troll more important to you than your first Kismet. Who's life depends on the extermination of the Subjugglators? Interesting. Who could it-"

"HE HASN'T 8EEN 8ORN YET!"

The Huntress shies back from surprise at the Marquise's outburst. This quickly turns into a look of bemused confusion, however but before she can retort you interrupt.

"The Summoner I venture? The one who you saw in the ball you gave me. His life... His life hinges on the destruction of the Subjugglators, doesn't it?"

Three eyes stare at you, vaguely surprised. It was almost as if they had forgotten you existed. After blinking for a second, The Marquise dumbly answers, "Yes. How did you..."

"You told me a few sweeps ago during a routine maintenance of your prosthetic. I am surprised you forgot telling me."

The Huntress turns to the Marquise, "You saw him in the future? How?"

Seemingly tired from her outburst Mindfang leans on the table, "There was an artifact. A white ball that I gave to Darkleer to hide. When I had vision eightfold in my other eye I could see through the opaque covering to a strange multi-sided die inside of it that gave me information of the future. I used it so many times that I mapped out a timeline of my life. It ends with a powerful troll named the Summoner who heads the last great uprising against the highbloods and... Who is to be my greatest Matesprit I will ever have."

She looks the Huntress dead in the eye, "But in that future, there are no Subjugglators. If there were, he would have been culled as soon as his wings grew in."

"Wings." The Huntress' eyes grew wide at the revelation.

"Yes. Wings. Things which only Gods are supposed to have. But he will be no God. Just a troll with a vision of equality who dies trying to make it happen. I believe you are acquainted with that sort of troll, Disciple. Only unlike yours, mine will have wings of Gods instead of the blood the color of the sun."

The Huntress lowers her head, face now shaded by the skins she wears. A stabbing pain hits you as you see a pale green line run down her face, "Fine. We will accept your help, Marquise Spinneret Mindfang."

The Marquise's face brightens instantly, "Yes. And my army which I will-"

"But only if you remain far, far away from your army and make your army don green and blue." The small green troll continues.

The Marquise's look of triumph disappears instantly, "What? No. Absolutely not, I will head my army and-"

The Huntress raises her head and for the first time that you have seen her the troll finally looks her age, much wiser than the two of you though the amount of sweeps she has lived is two thirds the amount you have, "Do you wish to s33 your Matesprit, Spinneret? Do you wish to one day be held by him and f33l his skin against yours as you fall asl33p together in a hive of your own making?"

The Marquise is taken aback. You can tell she suddenly feels very young compared to the troll before her as ashamedly so do you. She stammers, unable to respond. Unsatisfied by her lack of response, a lightning fast hand reaches across the table and grasps the b100b100d's hand tightly. Their eyes do not look away from each other's.

"Do you, Spinneret? Answer me!"

"Yes! Yes, I do!"

"Then you will not participate in the fight. You will stay away no matter what you hear or s33. Your men and women will not wear your colors. In essence you will have nothing to do with this siege and because of it you will survive to one day m33t him. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good," And with that, the Huntress stood up and wearily stalked into the depths of your temple.

As soon as all sounds of her bare feet disappeared into nothing Mindfang turns to you and asks with the sneer in her voice again, though obviously still shaken by the other trolls' intensity, "Wow. She's kind of dramatic, isn't she?"

You don't hear her.

Your mind is reeling from the final conversation.

You are no longer certain that you want to go through with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep the Ancestors similar enough to their Progeny's personalities (with variance to experiences) but I'm not certain how well I'm doing at it.
> 
> I'd love some feedback. Even if it's just "BLUH YOU'RE TERRIBLE STOP."
> 
> Because then I would stop.


	3. Broken

In just a few short days your temple, your home, has become an apartment building.

The Grand Pain-In-The-Ass Spinneret Mindfang had brought the entirety of her swashbuckling (swash8uckling) remnants into the giant temple... All one hundred fifty of them. And on top of that the Disciple had the wonderful idea to interview every single one of them by hand to weigh their loyalties to the Marquise against their loyalties to the rest of the Highbloods.

Mindfang had protested heavily against this but after the fourth interview the greenb100d had sniffed out a member of Mindfang's crew who was a remnant of Dualscar's reign, a spy planted by the aquatic troll to help his master out with Kismetic duties. The spy had stayed on Spinneret's ship after Dualscar had died because he had grown loyal to her but in the Empire searching Dualscar's Hive they had found letters from the Spy to Dualscar. The Empress herself had contacted him and told him to pledge allegiance to her under threat of having his land-locked Matesprit killed. It was the Spy's fault that the Neophyte Redglare had been able to find Mindfang's ship and capture her.

The Huntress had managed to guilt the confession out of him.

He ended up taking his own life in front of Mindfang, saying that it was better for him to die loyal to her. If he had joined the attack, word of him being there might have gotten back to the Condesce. If found abandoning his post, the Condesce would have surely had psionics hack into his brain and find out their plans. He came to the conclusion that he had no other choice.

The Marquise had been visibly shaken. That Spy had been one of her closest confidants. Later on in a fit of pained anger she would admit she had been flushed pale for him. It appeared he had shared the sentiments. ("If I had knooooooooown! Why, you shitty pumpkin 8looded 8uffoon!? I would have fought to the death to save that 8itch of yours! Fuck you! Wh8rever you are, fuck you!")

You had been shaken as well but for your own reasons.

The Huntress had been able to guilt a troll. She had managed to make a troll so filled with grief about his own choices that he culled himself. Trolls are very rarely ever guilted. Conned? Yes. Convinced? Yes. Bribed? Of course.

But Guilted?

Before he had committed suicide, the Spy had written out a list of twenty four other trolls who he knew were also spies for either the Condesce, the Subjugglators, or surprisingly enough the Legislacerators. He had also written out the name of his Matesprit, a light green b100d who you recognized had once been part of the Aristopneumatics, a legion of aviators that had been disbanded by the Empress after space flight had been achieved. Out of respect, Mindfang had taken a vial of his muddy orange b100d (8lood) to one day bring to her in the future.

After the twenty four had been brought to the Huntress one by one she found their loyalties much more favoring the parties that had sent them there. Each one of them found their quick ends at the blade of Mindfang's sword. After they had been culled the remainder of Mindfangs crew were ran through the Huntress' emotional sifter.

Seven more spies not discovered by the orangeb100d were found.

Neither were they discovered by the Huntress.

One of the crew members who had been hiding a psionic gift came forward and revealed herself to also be a spy, a spy sent by the Subjugglators. She revealed that she had been listening in to the interrogations being held in the closed room by hiding inside of your mind and watching through your eyes.

You almost culled her yourself before she then revealed that being inside of your head had somehow released her from the chucklevoodoos placed on her by her Subjugglator. Once released she had done a scan of the remainder of the crew and found the remainder of the spies. After willingly letting herself be interrogated by the Huntress she was found to be truthful and loyal.

To Mindfang, the Disciple, and yourself.

She, a lowly redb100d, devoted the remainder of her life to the three of you but primarily to you.

You were surprised to say the least.

Despite the last of the spies having been rooted out the Marquise had decided with the Huntress to run the last few past the green b100d.

"Just to be aaaaaaaaabsolutely cert8n." She had said.

The longer that you spent around the Marquise the more you had noticed some of her more... Colorful quirks. On occasion she would overpronounce her bs. At other times she would pronounce the "ai" or "ay" sounds with a clack of her teeth at the end of it. She had explained (or as she said it expl8ned) it to you that her lusus had been a spider (sp8der). As happens sometimes with trolls when growing up, some of the clicks and whines from her lusus' speech had translated into her speech. Most of the time she had no idea that she was doing it.

It annoyed you to no end.

To be truthful, you were not exempt (e%mpt) from this. Neither was the Huntress.

But yours rarely ever happened and the Huntress' was... Endearing. It made her seem like the sleek (sl33k) feline she acted as.

Mindfang's however grated at you. Each clack of her teeth, each elongated vowel just seemed to pull and pluck at your nerves.

But you are older than her. You are more mature. You should not let such nuances annoy you so much.

...With each day they grow more grating (gr888888888ting) however and being in the same room with Mindfang for so long no matter how large just made it worse.

The final troll exited the room leaving just you, the Huntress, and Mindfang.

In all, eight (8) more trolls had been culled. Not for being spies but simply for being found to easily bribed (8ri8ed) or having weak wills or, in once case, having had a flushed red crush on the Condesce.

And so the three of you were in a room with each other. The whole process had taken two nights. Not without a sleep break (8r8k) of course, but still.

"Well," began (8egan) the Marquise, "Thaaaaaaaaat could have gone much worse."

You cringed at the sound of her elongation, "Yes. Indeed. We could be down much more than that."

"Yesss. Instead we have," The Huntress paused for a moment, doing calculations in her head, "Two hundred and sixteen trolls left in our little army. That's still two hundred and sixteen more than Darkleer and I thought we would have. Thank you, Marquise."

The pirate looked down at the seated greenb100d with a strangely kind smile, "You're welcome."

A part of you was filled with a small amount of some foreign feeling.

The Huntress returned the smile with a larger one, filled with happiness, and giggled.

That part of you filled up with a larger amount of that same foreign feeling. You could almost taste it, a bile(8ile)-like flavor.

"Yes. Well. I believe we should be retreating for the day," You said through teeth, "Sunrise is coming quite soon."

The Huntress first looked at you blankly, then with a strangely surprised look on her face.

"Oh come ooooooooon, you 8ig 8aby," You could not tell if she was pronouncing things on purpose or if it was her tired state, "Haven't you ever st8ed up past your 8edtime?"

The Huntress looked at Mindfang, shifting in her chair after a moment, seeming to be reeling from something.

"Neigh, Mindfang," Your b100d began boiling. She WAS doing this on purpose, "If we want to have a good amount of rest for tomorrow when the plans are begun it would behoof us to go to bed as soon as possible."

After only glancing at you, the Huntress' eyes first narrowed then rolled before she buried her head in her hands. Couldn't Mindfang see what she was doing?

"Look, Expatri8, you are not the 8oss of meeeee-"

"You are currently a guest in my home and I can kick you ou-"

"Oh, you want me to leave? Fiiiiiiiiine, I can take all of my crew with-"

"That it out of the question, you traitorous foal, you have-"

"Whaaaaaaaaat is with aaaaaaaaall the fucking horse puns you ass-"

"Would you quit with the 100dicrous whining you-"

"WOULD THE TWO OF YOU SHUT THE EVER LIVING FUCK UP!?"

You both turned suddenly to see the Huntress stand up and throw the chair she had been sitting on between you. The Marquise had jumped out of the way, you had merely let the wooden seat fly past you, dumbfounded at the Huntress' outburst.

The Huntress looked at her hands for a moment, anger fading away to a strange look you had never seen on her face. Then she began mumbling.

"The lioness, her sl33k fur now ragged and standing on end collapsed to the floor. Seeing her distress, the kind and gentle signless appears and puts his hand upon her back."

Mindfang turns to you, fear spreading into her eyes. You do not respond, simply continuing to stare at the broken woman before you.

"'AW, DON'T GET TOO UPSET KITTEN,'" The Huntress continues with a strange, gravely, and loud voice, "'THINK OF IT THIS WAY: THIS IS FUCKING HILARIOUS.'

"'ON ONE HAND YOU'VE GOT THE BEGINNINGS OF YOUR FIRST REAL MOIRAILLEGIANCE FROM THE SPIDERTROLL. I MEAN YOU CAN'T REALLY COUNT ME, YOU KNOW THAT. WE WERE MATESPRITS AND MOIRAILS AND KISMETS ALL AT ONCE. '

"'ON THE OTHER HAND YOU'VE GOT THE CENTAUR TROLL WITH A GIGANTIC RED BONE FOR YOU,' He says in that jabbing annoying tone he always takes when teasing."

Your body tenses up, feeling sweat pour down your face. You don't even need to look at the Marquise to see her spin back at you, eyes filled with shocked surprise. Someone is breathing very hard. It takes a second before you realize it's you.

"'AND NOW,'" The Huntress continues in the second voice, green tears streaming down her face, "'NOW YOU REALIZE THAT YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO AUSTIPICE FOR THEM BECAUSE THEY CAN'T STOP FIGHTING LIKE LITTLE FUCKING BABIES BUT CAN'T SEE THE BLACK PAINT ON THE WALLS. ISN'T THAT FUCKING FANTASTIC, KITTEN?'

"'NOW ALL YOU'VE GOT TO DO IS GET THE LITTLE RED BLOOD TO HATE YOU AND YOU'VE GOT ALL OF THE QUADRANTS. THAT RARELY EVER HAPPENS, KITTEN! IT'LL TAKE A BIT BECAUSE SHE'S PLEDGED HER LIFE TO YOU BUT STILL.'

The Disciple of the Signless begins to shake.

"'AW, COME ON, KITTEN. YOU JUST HAVE TO-'

"You're dead. You're dead and you're not really here."

A moment passes by. It feels like eternity.

"'KITTEN. PLEASE. YOU NEED ME RIGHT NOW.'

"No. No I don't. You're dead. I finally dealt with that. You're dead and..."

She blinks a few times. Her hands clench and go to her side. Still looking at the ground, she begins walking. You don't follow her as she walks, still staring at where she had stood.

She doesn't look at either of you as she walks past you. Out of the corner of your eye you see Mindfang turning to watch her. You hear the door open.

Just barely over the sound of the door you hear her speak one more time.

"And I'm too old for this."

There is silence for a few moments before you hear Mindfang curse and leave the room, presumably after the broken greenb100d. For all you know she could be rallying her troops to leave the two of you behind.

You find you suddenly don't care.

After what seems like sweeps you turn and lethargically pick up the chair. You drag it to the sarcophagus you had been using as a table in plodding steps. With what seems like glue running through your veins you move it to the same place the Huntress had been sitting for the past two nights.

You sit.

Your are the Expatri8 Darkleer, formerly the E%ecutor Darkleer, formerly Horuss Darkleer, formerly the strange b100 grub found by a musclebeast lusus in a crater.

You are very, very confused in a thousand different ways.

And you are hurt in a way you have never before felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. I need critiques. Seriously. I need to know if and when I rub people wrong.
> 
> Not that praise isn't nice too but hey I like some critiques too.
> 
> Having the Disciple with an internal Sufferer just hit me yesterday and made sense in a very sad way. She was everything to him. Not only that but the Dolorosa and the Psiioniic were also taken from her as well. Who knows how many other friends she had ripped from her by the Subjugglators?
> 
> Then she went into DEEP seclusion for sweeps while painting hundreds of caves with his teachings in the blood of killed beasts. It would make sense if she went a little bit crazy and began pretending that the Sufferer was still alive and telling her his teachings and being there for her and petting her fur when she was too upset.
> 
> Gonna go a little bit more into that next chapter when we take a break from Darkleer and venture into someone elses head. Who? We'll see. ;;;;)


	4. Be the Marquise

Confidence is something that you typically exude normally. It falls out of you like light from the sun and seems to be just as never ending. Your crew looks up at you and admires you because no matter what it is you decide to do you are always completely and utterly confident that what you're doing will be the right thing.

Currently you have none of the confidence.

None of it.

You just spent two long, incredibly eye opening nights stuck in a room with an old purrbeast and a stubborn piece of horse shit finding out that a good handful of your crew were either traitors or spies and the troll who you had a little bit of a pale crush on ended up revealing his true colors and...

His eyes oh god his eyes as he cut his own throat his 8lood spraying on your coat...

Then you ended up getting a brand new comrade, a red8lood who you recruited to your merry band of pirates shortly after you survived the Legislacerator event and pulled your crew back together. And she's psionic as well.

Oh, and she's also fiercely loyal to Darkleer and the Disciple as well as you so there goes the wonderful idea of using her against them.

Not that you'd use the little red8lood against the Disciple. Obviously. Especially not now. Especially not after that display of whatever that was.

You found it so strange how easy it was to grow pale for the Disciple. She was just so intensely in love with the idea of love and it was obvious that her little crusade of revenge against the Subjugglators had gained another purpose: To ensure you getting your prophesied Matesprit. The Matesprit who would end your life, you kept telling her, but she just made a cute little noise and smiled.

And then there was Darkleer.

Sometimes you just wanted to take out your sword and run him through for how much of a stuck up idiot he could be. You just wanted to be as lewd (100d) as possible and curse in his face and...

And make him fucking see how much you fucking hated his strong (STRONG) 8lue8looded ass. He had so much potential. He could probably topple the entire glubbing aquatic empire if he wanted but no he just cloistered himself away in his dusty-as-fuck temple and act like a servant to any and everyone who came in to see him no matter what 8lood color they had. 

Which just didn't make sense to you. Once you found out about him and the services he gave you decided to do some research. Mainly to make sure he wasn't secretly working for the Legislacerators (because fuck that noise you're never going to get caught again) but also because hey what the fuck? He's a 8lue8lood. Why is he making arms and legs and spines and jaws and shit for any troll who asked? ANY troll. Red, Green, Purple, it didn't fucking matter to him for some reason. And he NEVER asked for payment.

So you researched. It was tedious and holy fuck you wished you had your Vision Eightfold again so you could just ask your Cue Ball but despite how long it took you ended up finding out all about his past. He was one of the most ruthless 8lue8loods to ever have been hatched in Alternia, outwardly and openly badmouthing low8loods while praising and venerating the high8loods. In fact, that was what ended up making him catch the attention of the Grand Highblood himself who made Horuss Zahaak E%ecutor of the Mirthful Messiahs.

That last part had never made much sense to you. How could someone be the court appointed murderer of two deities? Then Darkleer filled you in about the Grand Highblood's... Condition.

You couldn't stop laughing afterwards. Holy fuck that was rich. Did that mean that the Empress secretly believed she was some kind of Faerie Queen?

Darkleer had glared at you. He was being serious. You stopped laughing as you came to realize that one of the two most powerful trolls in the universe was secretly a big loonie who didn't just have one God Complex but two.

Yeah, one more reason why he needed to die.

In any case, Darkleer had been the big bad of the Subjugglators, murderating anyone who stood in the way of the big crazy asshole(s) who ran the joint with reckless abandon. And then the Sufferer raised his creepy mutant head with his little posse that included the Disciple and suddenly the E%ecutor couldn't do his fucking job. He let the Disciple go free and then killed someone he wasn't supposed to. And then instead of pulling together an army and taking down the Grand Fucknuts he retreated into a musty-ass temple in the middle of 8umfuck nowhere and made body parts for ANYONE for FREE.

It made no fucking sense to you. It pissed you off. And the moment you met him and he attached your new arm without even fucking looking you in the eye, acting like the fucking lowest low8lood in existence when he actually was above you in the hemospectrum made those purely platonic pissed-off perturbations plummet, psychotically pratfalling promptly into unbridled black feelings that you'd never felt before.

Of course, you hid them.

He made you so uncomfortably angry at him that it was all you could do to just shove it to the back of your thinkpan.

At least until you could somehow make him turn back into the 8east that he used to be. Before he somehow changed. Before he met the Sufferer. 

And now you were never more happy to have been stuck in a room with him for two days. Enough time to find out what pissed him off and use it against him. Make him angry enough to blow up.

And you had him. He was starting to hate you as well, you could feel it in your core. But not enough.

So after you had shared a strangely pale moment with the little purr8east and he growled out that it was bedtime you realized you had the perfect opportunity.

He obviously thought you were honing in on his territory. He obviously had a pale crush on the purr8east as well.

So you decided to pull him in. Make him mad. Get him angry.

And you did. You got him so angry that he was about to burst.

And then the purr8east vanished.

And in her place was someone else. Someone sad and 8roken and angry.

It was like she was a different troll. But at the same time she was herself, pretending to be that other troll.

It took her you a few moments to realize who was talking.

It was the Sufferer. It was the Disciples' reason for why she had been named "The Disciple."

But it wasn't. You knew that it wasn't. The Disciple was too high on the hemospectrum to have the ability to call upon spirits. This was something different. 

She called out your emotions for her. You were not surprised about that. The Disciple had this second sense for emotions you had never seen in any other troll.

Then she called out Darkleer's emotions. That had surprised you.

He had grown red for her. Red. Not pink. The way the grey of his face grew ashen, sweat pouring down his brow proved it. You felt suddenly sick. He wasn't growing territorial because he was pale for her as well, he thought you were trying to become Matesprits with her. You had caused him to get mad at you for no reason. You had caused the Disciple to...

You had never felt more guilty in your life. In fact, this may be the first time that you have ever actually FELT guilty before. All of that confidence you had, dashed. This was your fault.

You watched the green8lood leave. Lost in thought over what had just happened you found yourself staring at the door. You needed to find the Disciple. You had to make things better.

Fuck. You needed to apologize. The Grand Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, Terror of the Alternian Seas, Killer of His Honorable Tyranny, 8lue8looded Sp8der8itch who had never once apologized for anything needed to apologize.

She needed you.

Didn't she?

Or was that whole outburst just something else entirely?

"Fuck this shit," You found yourself murmuring as you sped out of the room. Darkleer had not moved. You didn't care.

There was no trail outside of the room to go by. There was no way you could have possibly tracked her anyway, being such a good Huntress and all.

So you went to the main chamber where your crew was situated, a giant cacophonous room deep underneath the ground lit with dozens of torches. Without even needing to call her name the redblood psionic from before came to you. Which was a good thing because you had never gotten around to learning it.

"You. What is your name?"

She looked up at you, eyes obscured with tinted goggles, and answered in her small voice, "My names have been taken from me, milady. The Subjugglator whoo enslaved me erased it from my mind. As such, I have no troo name currently."

"Oh. Um. Well," You faultered, not expecting that, "We'll deal with that later, I guess. Right now I need you to do something for me."

"And that is?"

"Woooooooow," You responded, vaguely surprised, "You didn't just read my mind?"

"No. That woold be rood to someone whoo was inflooential in my freedom from the Subjugglators."

"Okay then. Could you possi8ly be a little rude and find out where the Disciple is?"

"Why?"

You rolled your one good eye at her, "I need to talk to her and she's impoooooooossible to track down without telepathy."

"Ah. Good enough," The red8lood paused for a moment, "Ootside. She shoold not be ootside now. The sun is close too rising."

"Fuck. Where? Where outside?"

"Ootside the temple. Down the path a ways. In a tree."

"Okay. You stay here, girl."

The red8lood's face crinkled up at this, "I am not a child."

"Sucks that you look like a wriggler then," You turned, not caring to see her face crinkle up further, "Stay here anyway."

Why was she outside? Didn't she hear Darkleer during their little argument? The sun was about to fucking rise! Most trolls save for a handful who either make themselves immune via treatments or have just the right color of 8lood could survive in the daylight. To your knowledge only one troll could survive, even thrive in the daylight and she was dead now.

You are rather certain the Disciple does not share that same rung of the hemospectrum ladder.

By the time you make it outside the sun has just begun to peek over the horizon, it's horribly bright rays nearly 8linding you for a moment. As you run down the path you call out her name, consistently looking up into the trees between covering your eyes and glancing at the path. When you finally get to her you do not see her. You hear her.

"Mindfang! What are you doing!?"

Now you cannot open your eyes. Doing so would rob you of sight in both, "I was a8out to ask you the same fucking question, Disciple! We need to get 8ack inside the fucking temple!"

"We're too far away from the temple to get you back without burning your eye out," She's suddenly beside you and pulling on your arm and she's right oh fuck you can see the red from the sun through your eyelids, "Cover your eye with your hand quickly for a minute and follow me."

After what seems like miles of trekking through brush everything goes pink instead of red and you the grip on your arm loosens, "Mindfang you can open your eye here. It's not dark but it's dim enough to s33 safely."

You do. It appears that you're in a thicket, leaves and thorns and branches surrounding you like a cocoon. Light from the sun trickles through some of the holes in the topiary, enough to allow visibility and causes you to have a wicked headache but not enough to 8urn your eye out like the dragonfire did to your Vision Eightfold. The Disciple sits a few feet away from you covered in more furs than you have ever seen on her.

"Mind telling me why you were out here during the day?"

"I didn't want to be in there. I n33ded some time alone."

You stare at her for a moment before you realized that if she were to pull down the furs on her head she would be completely covered. No light would get through them. A small smile plays on her face.

"This is how I survived for many years without a hive. It may be incredibly hot during the day underneath all of these but it's better than dying from sunburn."

"I agree."

"I'm just glad my blood isn't any redder or I'd have b33n boiled alive years ago."

"Yeah."

There's a long pause as the two of you suddenly find very interesting things to look at that aren't each other. She's the one who speaks first, still doing her best not to achieve eye contact.

"So yeah. I guess the cat's out of the bag. I'm kind of insane."

"No. No, Disciple, you're not insane. You're..."

"Crazy? Demented?"

"Shut the fuck up, purr8east."

"What?"

Did you just say that out loud? Fuck. Play it off as natural, Mindfang.

"You're not crazy. Trust me. I know... First hand that what you did is a natural way for trolls who have mental 8reakdowns to do."

"Actually s33ing your dead lover come over and console your collapsed body when you know that you're standing up?"

After a pause, "Well that part was new, I admit, 8ut seeing people who aren't there? Normal."

"How... How do you know this?"

You look darkly at her. She meets your eyes, "I am not a very good troll, Disciple. One of my favorite games I used to play was 'Torture the Prisoner.' Not just physically, either. Mentally. I would 8reak trolls down until they were nothing. 8ut in that period between 8roken and nothing they would imagine wonderful things in their mind. Heroes coming to save the day and then, once saved and sometimes filling a few pails, going 8ack to their normal lives. Sometimes going 8ack to perfect little lives with all of the quadrants miraculously filled. Others had vivid hallucinations of 8reaking free on their own and killing me in creative ways. Those were always fun.

"8ut once in a while a troll would simply imagine that their loved one or hated one or pale one or even their ashen one was there with them. Not to save them, no. Just to 8e there with them. To console them that yes, this hurts and yes, you're pro8a8ly going to die 8ut it's okay. Everything will 8e okay.

"Those were my least favorite. So full of hope. And I always felt guilty afterwards."

The Disciple has not stopped looking at you. For a brief moment her face had shown some semblance of disgust. Then it changed to sadness. You continued.

"Seeing you like that kinda made me a little bit even more guilty. Fuck. Not even a little," You look away from her, suddenly unable to stand her face, "You fucking made me regret all of them. And I'm a 8lue8lood, I'm supposed to LIKE torturing and killing other trolls. I'm supposed to like seeing them in pain. I mean shit, Disciple, you're so much like her that it's disturbing!"

"Like who?" She asks in a very quiet voice.

"A slave who I once stole from my first Kismet. A 8eautiful slave who I planned on using as a tool in black warfare against him."

"Tell me about her." You look back at the Disciple. A strange look is on her face. It is gentle. You find yourself unable to resist her request.

"She had the darkest 8lack lips that seemed to be both sculpted and painted onto her face. Her chin was pointed but not too terri8ly. And her eyes. They were so soft and kind. It felt wrong to use her like I did 8ut I did. I took control of her and made her touch me. Made her want me.

"8ut I found myself not needing to control her after the initial push. She wanted to. She wanted me. She was 8eautiful and amazing and she knew that all she was and would 8e was a slave and she wanted me. She didn't care.

"So instead of killing her after using her like I had planned I kept her. I let her sleep in my own cocoon, not that she stayed there all that often. She had this charmingly annoying ha8it of getting up in the middle of the day just to go out into the sun and dance. She danced in the sunlight, can you 8elieve it?"

"Yes," The Disciple's eyes seem to be glittering for some reason, "Yes, I can believe it."

"I found myself flushing crimson for her. My first ever red crush and I could tell that she felt the same way. I didn't even have to look into her mind to tell. She was gorgeous and amazing and I didn't care that she was so much older than I was and that 8y the time I reached full adulthood for a 8lue8lood she would be long dead. I didn't care that my Cue 8all was telling me that our time together would 8e short or that my only 'true' Matesprit wouldn't be 8orn for so many, many sweeps. I wanted her.

"8ut then he came back. He had found out a8out how close we were getting. I didn't know then, 8ut I know now it was his orange spy doing his 8lackrom spy duties. He was jealous, the fucking fishy fool. Jealous of the attentions his Kismet was getting from her Matesprit, can you fucking 8elieve it?

"And he killed her. He fucking killed her right in front of me. Shot her right through the stomach, vi8rant green 8lood pouring everywhere and I couldn't save her.

"Then he just ran like the little fucking coward he was. Ran to the Su8jugglators. And I'm guessing was killed for some reason I've never cared enough to know."

Looking back at the Disciple you find that she has been crying, olive green tears staining her cheek. You lean forward quickly, putting your hands on her shoulders, suddenly sheepish and concerned, "Fuck. What did I say? I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that sad of a story, I didn't mean to make you-"

"I knew her."

Your arms fall slack and your face quickly falls suit, "What."

"I knew her, Mindfang. Do you know who she was? Did she ever tell you?"

"I. No. I never asked her and... I just never thought of looking through her memories."

The Disciple smiles a conspiratorial smile, "She was the Dolorosa. Surrogate Lusus of the Sufferer and... Well, also of myself."

Your jaw falls, "But. That would mean she was."

"Very old. Yes. It was part of her punishment. It was part of all of their punishment. Elongated lives of torture instead of death. Only I managed to avoid that fate and that was only because I got help escaping before she could curse us."

"8efore who could curse you?"

"The Empress. The Witch of Death. With her touch she can curse a troll with the inability to die from natural causes. The Dolorosa had that curse and as such was meant to be forever a slave to highblooded aquatics. The Sufferer was supposed to also get that curse before Darkleer killed him. I... I don't know what happened to the Psiioniic but I assume he, too, is alive somewhere."

"You are meaning to tell me that... I saved her?"

"Yes. You saved her from slavery. And she loved you because of it. I'm guessing that if she had lived she would have told you who she was. Would have shared with you her son's visions."

"I hope that she would have."

"I know that she would have."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, a silly grin on her face. You find the grin contagious and grin back earnestly. Your nerves loosen considerably and you take a deep breath before continuing to the big question.

"So. Tell me, little purrbeast. Why exactly did having two quadrants shoved upon you make you break down?"

She cringes, the smile vanishing in an instant.

"I... I don't know. My whole life I've either b33n alone or in love with the Sufferer. For a while both. And as you heard him tell me what we had didn't really qualify as being part of the whole quadrant system."

"How did that work, by the way?"

"I have no clue. All I know is that I didn't pity him. But I didn't hate him either. I also didn't f33l like I n33ded to fix him or protect him. I just wanted to be near him always and sl33p next to him and pester him when I could and spend the rest of my life with him if possible."

"...Weird."

"Thanks to him the quadrants f33l weird. I mean, my instincts tell me that they're real and should be but actually f33ling strong pity for someone or even just light, pale pity just f33ls... Alien.

"Like I should have more than just pity for them. But I know that every other troll in existence could never be like him. He just didn't have the base instincts that come with the quadrants. He couldn't really f33l strong pity or even hate someone d33ply. In fact, I think he may have b33n unable to hate at all."

"Unable to haaaaaaaate!?"

"Yes. I mean sure, he got annoyed with trolls but he was only ever disappointed with highbloods who attacked him, never once hating them."

"He sounds like a very interesting troll."

She sighs, suddenly looking much, much younger than she is, "He was."

You bring the topic back in, "So Darkleer."

And just like that she suddenly looks her age, "What about him?"

"You can tell he's red for you. And I'm not even going to ask how you can tell, by the way. What do you feel about him?"

There's a long pause as she looks down at the ground, furs covering her face.

"I don't know. I mean. I guess part of me really pities him for having lost everything he had because of me. But I'm not certain guilt-based pity is actual pity.

"And then there's the fact that I pity him for f33ling so guilty for killing the Sufferer. No matter what I tell him, no matter how much I reassure him that it wasn't murder, that it was mercy he just refuses to f33l anything but guilt about it. Guilt and sadness."

She idly scratches at her face, "And I just can't f33l that he's hiding something from me that he f33ls even more guilty about."

"Well, duh, of course he is."

Her eyes snap back up to you. Fuck. You hadn't meant to say that out loud, "What? Wait. How much about his past do you know?"

"Shit, purr8east, I reeeeeeeeeally don't think I should be talking about something he should pro8ably be-"

Her eyes grow determined, "Tell me, Marqu33se."

You attempt to resist her.

You find that you simply cannot.

Fuck. Yep. You're definitely pale for this infuriating purr8east.

You tell her about what you had learned when you first found out about Darkleer. About how ruthless he was, how pro-hemospectrum he was, about how many low8loods he had killed in his long, long tenure as E%ecutor.

And instead of making her repulsed or depressed it simply made her eyes grow larger, a small frown adorning them. When you have finished and told her how long he has been living in hermetic solitude she finally breaks eye contact and looks downward.

"I'm going to have to sl33p on this," Is the only thing she says before curling up into a ball on the ground. As soon as she does you are suddenly hit with a wall of holy fuck tired. You don't know how long the two of you had been talking but a quick and dangerous glance upwards through the leaves confirms that although the sun isn't overhead it definitely has gotten completely in the sky.

Slumping down, you lean up against a rock. Without even thinking about it you reach out a hand to touch the curled up Disciple.

She jumps slightly and looks up at you. You feel yourself opening your arms as an invitation. The purr8east's face seems to glow with happiness and she slinks (slinks!) over to you, curling up beside you and placing her head and an arm across your lap. You find your arms lowering.

One lands lightly on her head. It begins scratching at the fur covering her lightly, kneading through it. She makes a small happy noise.

The other hand drops to your side only for it to land on her hand. After a second your hands turn and grasp each other, her warmer hand feeling much hotter than yours.

You suddenly feel incredibly happy. Almost as happy as you had been when she... When the Dolorosa had kissed you out of her own free will.

With that feeling of euphoria you slowly drift into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So it's been a while since I posted last.
> 
> This is because of Homestuck, I assure you, and has little to nothing to do with my own personal life. Amusingly, when I began writing this, I had absolutely no expectation to ever meet the Alpha/Beforan Trolls. I assumed they were gone forever, that we the readers would never meet them, let alone engage in conversation with them and find out their backstories.
> 
> So I stopped writing this for a while.
> 
> I didn't want to ruin anything, you see. I personally hate the idea of having to abandon a work of fanfiction because of Canon Characterization so I stopped and continued on the journey of Homestuck until it got to where we are now: The Final Hiatus; The Gigapause.
> 
> I'm pretty sure we're done with learning about the Ancestors now. I'm rather certain that we're done with characterization of the Dancestors (other than more Meenah & Aranea, of course) so I tentatively decided to begin writing again.
> 
> Unless we find out in the last batch of updates something more about the Ancestors I think I'm cool to continue. Hooray.
> 
> Anyway, this particular chapter I wrote a while ago, around when Aranea was actually introduced. Amusingly enough I might have finished it JUST before Aranea popped up in Jake's dream with that Smug Grin on her face. 
> 
> To be truthful I'm kind of afraid I portrayed her a bit too Vriska-like.
> 
> Then again if Aranea lived Mindfang's life she'd probably be a bit more Vriska-like.
> 
> Hopefully I'm somewhere between.
> 
> Anyway, this afterwards is taking too damn long. Bluh. I look forward to getting my brain back into writing this bitch.


End file.
